


Spring Break

by LydiaBSlade



Series: Destination Unknown [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, America is a strange place most of the time, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Arguing, Ben has a lot of feelings about being Jewish, BenArmie AU, Brief reference to the Holocaust, Developing Relationship, Hux has a lot of feelings about the Civil War, Hux is bad at being a person, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Racism, Internalized Homophobia, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sex Toys, Slight Ben/Mitaka, Slight Ben/OMC, Switch/vers Kylux, no seriously there’s way too much talk about the Civil War in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 12:49:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17981648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaBSlade/pseuds/LydiaBSlade
Summary: Ben wants to spend Hux’s spring break driving across the country and doing inappropriate things to Hux in new and interesting locations. Hux wants to visit Civil War battlefields. It goes about as well as you would expect.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that there really is a LOT of talk about the Civil War in this story (just what everyone wants with their BenArmie porn, I know), including discussion of Confederate monuments in the second chapter. See the detailed content warnings at the end of each chapter for more information. As always, please don’t hesitate to let me know if you feel that this story is under-tagged, or if you have feedback about the way I handled the sensitive content.

“Question for you,” Ben says. “Does the prison hell camp let you go for spring break?”

“They do, in fact,” Hux says, mildly annoyed. “It’s almost as if this is actually a prestigious university, and not a prison camp.”

“Awesome. So what are you planning to do over the break?”

“The usual, I guess,” Hux says.

“By ‘the usual’ do you mean hanging out at my apartment, eating takeout, and trying not to yell so loud when you come that you wake up my mom?”

Hux glances at Mitaka, who is looking innocently out the window, but who always seems to perk up with interest whenever Ben calls. “Something like that,” Hux says. 

Ben laughs. “Mitaka’s there, huh?”

“Yes.”

“So I shouldn’t start telling you about all the plans I have for you over the break?”

“Probably not.”

“I have this vibrator that I want to try on you that’s amazing.”

“Okay. Not now.”

“You know what? I’m going to get you nice and worked up with my tongue and my fingers first, and then I’m going to slide this thing inside you and watch you lose your fucking mind. Seriously, you’ll love it.”

Hux squirms in his chair. “ _Ben._ ”

“What? It’s just Mitaka. I bet if I tell you the brand name and you ask him about it, he’ll have an intelligent opinion. Maybe he can give us some tips.”

“I’m going to hang up on you,” Hux says, trying to sound threatening.

Ben laughs. “Okay, okay. Actually, what I really wanted to ask you was, do you want to go somewhere with me over the break? I was talking to my dad the other day, and I’m pretty sure that if I guilt-trip him a little more he’ll lend me his car for spring break.”

Hux bites his lip. “I want to, but I don’t really have any money to go anywhere.”

“It’s okay - my mom gave me a credit card. I’ll work it out with her.”

“Ugh,” Hux says. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You don’t have to ask. Just don’t worry about it.” 

“I really can’t.”

“Sure you can,” Ben says. His tone slides back to suggestive. “Besides, if you’re that worried about taking my money, I can think of some ways for you to earn it.”

“You just get worse and worse,” Hux says. “I don’t know why I still talk to you.”

“I can think of a few reasons,” Ben says. “Most of them involve my mouth. Anyway, does that mean you’re in?”

“Maybe. Where do you want to go?”

“Somewhere warm, for sure,” Ben says. “I’m tired of stepping into freezing slush puddles everywhere. I was thinking we could head south, maybe end up in New Orleans eventually. I’ve always wanted to go there.”

“That would be fun, actually,” Hux says cautiously. “I’d love to drive though the South and see some of the Civil War battlefields.”

“Oh God, not Civil War battlefields,” Ben says. “I should’ve known you’d find some way to make a spring break road trip terrible.”

“What’s wrong with Civil War battlefields?” Hux asks testily. “What do you want to see, anyway? What’s in New Orleans?”

“Mainly vampires,” Ben says. “I need to see all the places where Louis and Lestat hung out in Anne Rice’s books.”

“Okay,” Hux says. “So I’m ridiculous for wanting to see the sites where Civil War battles actually happened, but you’re not ridiculous for wanting to go see a place that does not, in fact, have vampires?”

“Hux, you know what a battlefield is?” Ben says. “It’s just a field. The interesting part is over. You’re in upstate New York; you could go and walk outside for five minutes and see all kinds of fields that would be just as scintillating.”

“The point of going to a battlefield is to imagine what happened there,” Hux says. “You’re the artist - aren’t you supposed to be the imaginative one?”

“I am very imaginative,” Ben says. “In fact, I have such a good imagination that I can imagine a Civil War battle from right here in my living room. I don’t need to drive for hours to stand in a field.”

“I’ll make it interesting for you.”

“Really? Normally you won’t let me do anything to you in public.”

“Not like _that_ ,” Hux says. “I mean I’ll bring my atlas of Civil War maps and I’ll explain what happened, so you’ll understand why it’s interesting.”

“Oh my god,” Ben says, “please do literally anything but that.”

***

“Oh no,” Ben says, weeks later, as they’re packing up Han’s Jeep on a Friday afternoon, “tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”

Hux takes his atlas from Ben and tucks it carefully into his briefcase, stowing it under the passenger seat. “West Point’s collections of military maps are really exceptional,” he says primly. “The people on my military-history message board were thrilled when I offered to scan and upload some of the maps from this book.”

“They’re probably thrilled because there’s not a lot else going on at whatever institution they’re locked up in.”

“Anyway, I told you what I wanted to do on this trip,” Hux says, climbing in. “You had the opportunity to back out at any time.”

“I’m only going through with this because I remembered my secret weapon,” Ben says.

“Which is?”

“The fact that you don’t have a driver’s license,” Ben says. “So you can’t actually force me to drive to every godforsaken Civil War site in the South.”

“Why am I coming along, then? You could go look for vampires on your own anytime you want.”

“We can go to _some_ battlefields, okay? Just not every single one,” Ben says. “Besides, if there’s something you particularly want to see, I respond well to flattery. And bribes.” He grins at Hux, climbing into the driver’s seat. The Jeep makes a hideous screeching noise as he turns the key in the ignition, but it starts. “Anyway, don’t you get enough military history in class? Why are you spending time on a military-history website instead of looking at porn like a normal person?”

“We don’t actually take any military history classes until senior year,” Hux says, “and porn is blocked from West Point’s network. I told you that already.”

“You did say something about not being able to look at porn, but I think I assumed you just didn’t want to get caught with, like, gigabytes of dicks on your hard drive.” Ben lurches around the corner onto Fifth Avenue at a speed that makes Hux clutch at the side of the Jeep.

“Well, that too, but it’s blocked for everyone,” Hux says, when he can speak. “They even blocked the Victoria’s Secret site for a while, but they backed down on that when the cadet girls complained that they should be allowed to buy underwear, even if some of the guys are jerking off to the pictures.”

Ben laughs. “That’s so weird on so many levels,” he says. “I mean, I knew they didn’t want you to fuck other dudes, but I didn’t think they expected you to be, like, a monk.”

“It is partly the religious influence,” Hux says. “We actually had an assembly where this chaplain talked to us about how he was the one who got porn banned. He was really proud of it.”

“Oh god,” Ben says. “I should have figured it would be something like that. Isn’t it illegal for them to, like, impose Christianity on you guys like that? I mean, Alexander the Great had his boyfriend declared a god. What if my religion is that I worship that guy and I need to look at naked pictures of him all day long?”

“You could probably file a memorandum requesting an exception to policy, in that case,” Hux says. “Anyway, the chaplain said that he had this conference about the scourge of pornography a few years ago, and according to him all these cadets showed up and were literally crying because they couldn’t stop looking at porn and it was ruining their lives. So he persuaded the administration to ban it.”

Ben snorts. “Yeah, I bet those cadets were crying,” he says. “They were probably crying because they thought they were going to a porn conference and instead they just got stuck with the weird porn chaplain.”

There’s another alarming metallic screech from the Jeep as Ben shifts gears. Hux stares at the dashboard in alarm. It looks like the cockpit of a plane, covered in dials and switches whose function he doesn’t recognize. “How old is this car, anyway?”

“Older than me,” Ben says cheerfully. “I think I may have been conceived in it.”

“Ugh,” says Hux. “It looks like a relic from World War II.”

“It is, kind of,” Ben says. “It’s made by the same company that made World War II Jeeps for the Army. My mom’s pretty tired of it - my dad’s spent so much money fixing it over the years. He loves it, though. He says the real problem is that the New York City air doesn’t agree with it.”

Hux eyes the steering wheel suspiciously. “Is he going to come rescue us if we encounter some other kind of air it doesn’t like on this trip?”

Ben pats Hux’s shoulder. “It’ll be fine,” he says. “It looks rusty but it’s solid - it’s like a small tank.” He gestures to the thick metal bar that bisects the roof of the car. “That thing overhead is solid steel. My dad got into a rollover accident in this car when I was a baby in the back seat - he still insists it wasn’t his fault - and apparently the Jeep was barely damaged and I slept through the whole thing.”

“Oh,” Hux says. “I thought at first that this was going to be a story about how you actually were dropped on your head as a baby. It would explain so much.”

Ben smacks Hux’s thigh. “Watch it,” he says. “Remember, you’re depending on me to take you to see all this Civil War stuff. Aren’t you supposed to be flattering me and offering me sexual favors?” He slides his hand into Hux’s lap, over his crotch. The Jeep begins to drift towards the median strip.

Hux bats his hand away. “Maybe you should focus on driving,” he says. 

***

At a rest stop in New Jersey, Hux buys a bottle of water and a bag of beef jerky. Ben buys a holographic postcard with a picture of a panther on it and a large votive candle.

“I just have one question about your purchases,” Hux says as they walk outside. “And the question is: why?”

“It’s Americana,” Ben says brightly. The panther on the postcard is surrounded by flames. It appears to leap jerkily back and forth as Ben flaps it at Hux. “We’re heading out to see America. This is a good souvenir.”

“I don’t see how,” Hux says. “You really want something to remember this rest stop forever by?”

Ben grins. “Why, are you offering?”

“No. I already told you I’m not doing your truck-stop fantasy. At least not in an actual truck stop.” Ben pushes out his lower lip, pouting. “Can’t you just blow me at the hotel later and _pretend_ that we’re in a gross public restroom? That way I still get a blowjob and neither of us gets a disease.”

“It won’t be the same,” Ben says sadly.

“Anyway,” Hux says, “why the candle? Are you planning to summon something?”

“That’s always a possibility, but I also just really like scary religious art,” Ben says. He holds up the candle, which is wrapped in a print of a luridly Technicolor Virgin Mary. “Look, she’s weeping blood and she has swords sticking out of her chest! This is awesome.”

“If you say so,” Hux says tiredly. “You’re so confusing. One minute you’re yelling about your Jewish heritage and the next you’re collecting Madonnas at a rest stop.”

“If they sold spooky Jewish art in convenience stores I’d buy that too,” Ben responds. “But gothic rest-stop folk art doesn’t really seem to be a major Jewish genre, unfortunately.”

“What a tragedy,” Hux says. They’re back on the highway now. Hux looks out at the pine trees silhouetted against the late-afternoon sun. “Do you think maybe we could go to Gettysburg first? And then head south from there?”

Ben groans. “Hux,” he says, “I swear to God, I will take you to see battlefields, okay? But Gettysburg is hours to the west and it’s going to be cold as balls in some field in Pennsylvania in March. Can we please skip just this one?”

“Fine,” Hux snaps. “Where are you in such a hurry to go, anyway?”

“It’s going to be Friday night,” Ben says, glancing at Hux. The slanting sunlight glints in his long eyelashes. “I’d like to get to DC and go out for dinner. I printed out MapQuest directions to this Ethiopian place that Rey says is really good - is that okay with you?”

 _He wants to take me out on a date_ , Hux realizes, with a sudden fizzy rush of happiness that surprises him. It feels wrong, as if this isn’t an emotion that he’s supposed to have. “Yeah,” he says, looking at Ben. “I’d like that, actually.”

“Cool,” Ben says. He reaches over to squeeze Hux’s hand.

***

A few doors down from the Ethiopian restaurant, thumping music pours out of a neon-lit bar. An enormous rainbow flag flies from the bar’s roof, making it look somewhat like a military fort.

Ben nudges Hux. “Hey,” he says. “I wonder if that place serves food? Let’s go check it out.”

“I doubt it,” Hux says. “Anyway, they’re checking IDs at the door. I don’t think they’re going to let us in.”

“I’m going to ask.” Ben walks up to the bouncer while Hux hangs back, trying to make himself invisible in the space between the streetlights. A few minutes later, Ben comes back, looking crestfallen. “You were right,” he says glumly. “I asked if we could just hang out and order food, and I tried flirting with him, but it didn’t work. He was just like, ‘sorry, not worth getting fired over.’”

“Didn’t you want to go to this Ethiopian place, anyway?”

“I do,” Ben says, “but it would have been nice to have dinner with you somewhere where you wouldn’t be uncomfortable if I touched you. Or kissed you.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Hux says, “I would probably have been uncomfortable regardless.”

Ben half-laughs, half-sighs. “Oh well,” he says, “hopefully at least this way I get to have some of the spicy raw Ethiopian beef. I’ve been wanting to try that ever since Rey told me about it.”

“Wait,” Hux says, “we’re eating raw beef? Why is the beef raw?”

“Hux, relax,” Ben says. “They have other stuff too. Or you could just think of this as one more thing I put in your mouth that you’ll wind up liking in spite of yourself.”

***

Later, at the hotel - a Days Inn on a forgettable stretch of highway outside of town - Hux puts his hands over his face and groans as Ben slides a thick, lubed-up finger inside him. Ben has been lying between Hux’s spread legs for what seems like a very long time now, his tongue moving languidly along the underside of Hux’s cock, teasing at his balls, then moving lower to lick into him, until Hux could barely stand it. Now Hux’s cock throbs, almost painfully, as Ben’s finger rubs little tight circles over that spot inside him, making him arch his back desperately and whine in the back of his throat.

“ _Ben_ \- fuck - please - “

“Yeah?” Ben says huskily, looking up at Hux, heavy-lidded, his dark hair hanging over his face. “What do you want?” His finger is still moving inside Hux, infuriatingly slowly, sending jolts of heat up his spine. 

“Please - please suck me - I need it - “

Ben leans up on his elbow and sucks the head of Hux’s cock hard for a moment, letting go with a wet _pop_ when Hux tries to thrust up into his mouth. “Yeah? Is that what you want?”

Hux makes a frantic little sound in his throat, his hips bucking helplessly. “Please - why did you stop?”

“Because I love making you beg,” Ben says, grinning. “And because I still want to use that on you.” He gestures towards the vibrator, which is sitting on the nightstand; Hux had almost forgotten about it. It’s black and vaguely L-shaped. “You ready?”

“Sure,” says Hux, a little doubtfully. He mostly just wants Ben’s mouth back on his cock. “We can try it.”

Ben pulls his finger out slowly and reaches for the vibrator, sliding the longer end of it inside Hux; the shorter end rests just behind his balls. Hux takes a deep breath as Ben turns it on. The vibrations are gentle, more teasing than anything else. “Does it - can you turn it up higher?”

“You want more?” Ben asks. He does something to the base of the vibrator.

“Oh fuck,” Hux whimpers as the intensity of the teasing sensation suddenly ramps up, making him throw his head back and clutch at the sheets. His cock jerks, leaking onto his stomach. “Oh - _fuck_!”

Ben is kneeling between his legs, looking at him intently, his lips parted. “You like that?” he asks, breathing hard, reaching down to stroke himself. 

Hux makes an incoherent sound in response, his hips spasming. It feels as if concentric circles of pleasure are rippling through him, radiating out from the device inside him. He squeezes his eyes shut, then opens them again, wanting to watch Ben touching himself. Ben’s face is flushed, his cock obscenely thick and red in his hand. Hux wants to taste it. He reaches out towards Ben, barely able to speak. “Can you come up here - I want to come with your cock in my mouth - “

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Ben groans, crawling awkwardly up the bed and then turning to face Hux’s feet, straddling his face. He feeds his cock gently into Hux’s mouth, shuddering as Hux begins sucking as much of it as he can, working the rest of it with his hand. The taste of salt bursts on Hux’s tongue as Ben’s cock leaks into his mouth. 

Ben leans forward, on his hands and knees above Hux, and runs his tongue up and down the length of Hux’s cock before he lets it slide into his mouth. Hux thrusts heedlessly upwards, moaning around Ben’s cock, overwhelmed by the heat of Ben’s mouth and the vibrations still sending waves of pleasure through him. Ben swallows hard around Hux’s cock, bobbing his head, and Hux can’t hold back anymore. His body quakes as he comes into Ben’s mouth, his frantic noises muffled by Ben’s cock.

***

In the morning Hux wakes up feeling strange - his skin feels irritated, as if it’s too tight. He looks down at his arms and chest and sees that they’re streaked with red dots. “Shit,” he says.

Ben opens his eyes and peers at Hux sleepily. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know - it’s like I have heat rash, but it’s not hot.”

Ben yanks the blanket off him. The red dots run in streaks all down his back and legs. “Weird. Do you know if you’re allergic to anything?”

“I’m not usually. Maybe I’m allergic to your vibrator.”

Ben laughs. “I doubt it. It’s hypoallergenic. I bet it’s something they washed these sheets in - they smell weird and chemical-y.”

“Ugh,” says Hux, looking at his legs. “I’ve got them all over.”

Ben laughs. “Poor Hux,” he says, reaching out to stroke Hux’s hair. “Survived basic training and hazing and all that, but you can’t handle the harsh environment inside a Days Inn.”

“Shut up,” says Hux, flushing. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Yeah, good idea,” Ben says. “I’ll go see if I can find a drugstore.”

In the bathroom, Hux surveys himself gloomily in the mirror. He’s never been especially happy with his appearance, but the contrast between the bright red rash and his extremely white skin makes him feel particularly ghastly. He scrubs at it fiercely in the shower, which only makes it look worse and itch more.

“Hey,” Ben says some time later, banging on the door. “I found a Rite Aid and got you some antihistamine cream, it’s supposed to help.”

Hux opens the door a crack and holds out his hand. “Thanks.”

“You’re not letting me in? Wouldn’t it be easier if I put it on your back?”

“I can do it,” Hux says through the door. “You don’t need to come in.”

“What are you, shy all of a sudden? Hux, I’ve seen you naked before.”

“Not like this.”

“So what? Hux, chill out. It’ll be easier if I help you.” 

Hux opens the door reluctantly, wrapped in a towel. “It just looks awful.”

“Are you worried that I’m, like, not going to be attracted to you anymore because you had an allergic reaction? Hux, you’re so weird,” Ben says, tugging at the towel. “Turn around.”

Hux turns to face the sink and lets Ben pull the towel off enough to get to his back. It does feel good to let Ben smooth the cool cream over his irritated skin. “I’ve never had anything like this happen before. The only thing that looked anything like this was when I got really bad heat rash from my knee pads during basic training.”

“Wait,” Ben says, his hands pausing on Hux’s shoulders, “your basic-training uniform included knee pads? Why did I not know this?”

“Yeah, it was stupid,” Hux says. “They made us wear them in the field all the time - it was supposed to make it easier to drop down quickly onto your knees and start shooting. But the plastic gave me such bad heat rash that my squad leader made me go to sick call when he saw my legs.”

“Hux, I know I sound like a broken record,” Ben says, his hands moving down over Hux’s lower back, “but can you please bring your camo uniform home with you sometime? I need you to do things to me in it.”

“Maybe,” Hux says, leaning back into Ben’s touch. “I might have to punish you for real if you mess up the polish on my combat boots, though.”

“Mmm, don’t make promises you’re not going to keep,” Ben says, kissing Hux’s hip. He’s kneeling behind Hux now, rubbing lotion into Hux’s thighs. Hux could reach his legs himself easily enough, but he’s enjoying Ben’s attentions. “Maybe when we go downstairs we should get online and look for someplace a little bit nicer to stay tonight. Since your skin is too delicate for this class of hotel.”

“Would you shut up with this crap about how delicate I am?” Hux snaps. “You sound like my father.”

“I do not,” says Ben indignantly. “I’m just messing with you. Anyway, you know I love how soft your skin is.”

“Hmmph,” Hux responds, somewhat mollified. 

***

“Do you think we could maybe stop at the Smithsonian before we head towards Richmond?” Ben asks as they get into the car. “I’d really like to see at least one of the art museums.”

Hux’s tolerance for art museums is extremely limited. “What about the Holocaust museum?” he asks. “That seems like something you’d be interested in.”

“Ugh,” Ben says. “Why would I want to go there? I’m on vacation.”

“I don’t know, isn’t it Jewish history or whatever? I’m just interested in the World War II aspect of it.”

Ben turns on the Jeep and stomps angrily on the gas pedal. The car lurches forward. “See, this is exactly the problem with how they teach Jewish history in schools,” he says.

“Oh no,” Hux says, “this sounds like the beginning of a long rant.”

“All they teach is the Holocaust,” Ben says, his voice rising. “They don’t put it in context. You don’t learn about Yiddish theater or literature or, like, the fact that there have been Jewish communities in India since the Middle Ages. All they do is make middle-schoolers look at pictures of naked corpses in a ditch and then people like you think that’s what Jewish history is.”

“What do you mean, ‘people like me’?” Hux asks, irritably. “It’s not my fault that Yiddish theater wasn’t part of the curriculum at our high school.”

“Fine,” Ben says, scowling. “Anyway, to answer your question, no, I don’t want to go look at gas chambers on our fun road trip. Can we go to the National Gallery?”

“I suppose,” Hux says with a sigh. “I have an upper limit of an hour there, just so you know.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Ben promises, squeezing his leg.

Hux regrets this concession almost as soon as they step inside the National Gallery. Outside, it’s a crisp, lovely early-spring day; the sky behind the Washington Monument is very blue, and the flowering trees are starting to bloom along the Mall. _Perfect weather for doing almost anything else,_ Hux thinks, trailing unhappily after Ben through rooms full of Catholic altarpieces that all look the same to Hux. 

“Look at this one, it’s Saint Lucy offering us her eyeballs on a plate!” Ben says happily. “I love this stuff.”

“Ugh,” Hux says. “How is this any more cheerful than looking at gas chambers?”

“Because this stuff is cool and awesome, not depressing and terrible,” Ben says. “Like this one - all the martyrs have come to see the baby Jesus and St. Catherine has brought along her torture wheel! And that guy is looking lovingly at the baby, even though he was stoned to death and he still has a rock stuck in his head.”

Hux yawns and looks at his watch. “I’m leaving in twenty minutes,” he says. “With or without you.”

“Where are you going to go without a car?”

“I’ll hitchhike.” Hux turns to walk away. Ben reaches out to him and wraps his arms around Hux from behind. 

“Now you’re trapped,” Ben says, poking his nose into Hux’s hair. “No running off to hitchhike.”

Hux wriggles uncomfortably against Ben, glancing at the guard in the next room. “Ben, I don’t think we should - “

“What if I blow you in the bathroom?” Ben whispers in his ear. “Would that make you more interested in art?” He bites the back of Hux’s neck gently, then immediately jerks away, wiping frantically at his mouth. “Ugh! I forgot you’re covered in that allergy cream. It tastes gross.”

Hux laughs. “It seems to be working, though,” he says, rolling up his sleeves to look at his arms. The rash has mostly faded. “I’d almost forgotten about it.”

“It’s my magical healing hands,” Ben says, squeezing Hux’s ass. “I’m like Aragorn.”

Hux rolls his eyes, trying not to smile. “You’re a giant dork, that’s what you’re like.”

“ _I’m_ a giant dork? You’re the one who wants to go stand on some random hill so that you can imagine that you’re, like, dying of gangrene there in the nineteenth century,” Ben says. “Give me a half hour here and then we can go do that, okay?”

Hux looks at his watch again. “Fine. That should give us enough time to get to Fredericksburg before the park closes - I really want to see that one. I wrote a paper about it in high school.”

“Of course you did,” Ben says, sighing. “I reserve the right to entertain myself by groping you the entire time we’re there, though.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings:  
> \- Ben makes a joke that could be interpreted as ableist (he suggests that the only people who share Hux’s interests are probably institutionalized).  
> \- Ben makes a brief, joking reference to sex work.   
> \- Hux has an allergic reaction to something at the hotel and gets a rash. Ben rubs antihistamine cream on him.  
> \- Ben is very enthusiastic about the more macabre aspects of Catholic art, in a way that could be interpreted as disrespectful. Also includes brief references to various saintly martyrdoms.  
> \- Reference to the Holocaust: Hux asks if Ben wants to go to the Holocaust museum and Ben goes off on a rant about how much he hates that Jewish history gets reduced to “pictures of naked corpses in a ditch.”  
> \- Hux briefly references his father’s verbal abuse. Not explicit.  
> \- Sex: happens. Ben uses a vibrator on Hux and they 69. Nothing too crazy.


	2. Chapter 2

“That’s the famous stone wall!” Hux says, flapping his atlas excitedly at it. “I’m so glad it’s still here - I didn’t know if it would be.”

Ben is standing behind him, resting his chin on Hux’s shoulder, his arms loosely around Hux’s waist. After some mental deliberations about the extreme unlikelihood of running into anyone he knows here, Hux has decided to allow this. Hux is fairly certain that most of his classmates are spending their vacations engaged in underage drinking and the futile pursuit of girls from their hometowns, not battlefield tourism. 

“I know I’m going to regret asking this,” Ben says, his breath ruffling Hux’s hair, “but what’s the big deal about the stone wall?”

“It was the site of one of the worst and most pointless massacres of the war,” Hux says happily. “The Confederates were dug in behind the wall, with overlapping fields of fire covering this whole open area. The Union side sent one division after another across the field, with no cover, and they just got slaughtered by the Confederate rifles. Thousands of Union soldiers died.”

“Fun,” Ben says. They stand looking at the wall for a moment. The translucently green spring grass is so neatly manicured that it looks more like the boundary of a golf course than the site of a mass killing. The trees along the pathway are studded with tiny white flowers. “That’s the kind of story that definitely makes me understand why you want to be a soldier.”

“Well, this is exactly why we generally try to avoid frontal assaults on fortified positions,” Hux explains, holding up his atlas again. “Nowadays we would probably just obliterate the Confederate defenses with an airstrike before sending in ground troops.”

“Yay,” Ben says sarcastically. “Well, in that case, the whole thing sounds like a party.”

“Actually,” Hux says brightly, “I do have one fun fact about this battle that might interest you.”

“A fun fact? I can’t wait.”

“The Union general who was in command here, Burnside, had such impressive facial hair that sideburns are named after him,” Hux says. “He got fired after this disaster, though.”

Ben starts to laugh, his chest shaking against Hux’s back. “Hux, you’re so weird that it’s kind of adorable,” he says. “I can’t believe you dragged me out here just to see the spot where the guy who invented sideburns got a ton of people killed.”

“Not _just_ to see this spot,” Hux says, affronted. “There are five more stops on the Fredericksburg battlefield driving tour. And then there are all the Spotsylvania sites to see.”

Ben groans. “Oh my god,” he says, “after all that, please tell me you’re going let me fuck you when we get to the hotel tonight.”

Hux bumps his hips back against Ben. “Is that what you want?”

“Mmm, yeah,” Ben says, tightening his arms around Hux, rubbing up against him. “Want to bend you over, lick you and finger you until you’re begging for my cock. Want to feel you come while I’m fucking you.”

Hux shivers. “I think that can be arranged,” he says. “But first let’s go see Marye’s Heights. That’s where the Confederate artillery was.”

“Hux,” Ben says, still grinding against him, “you’re literally killing me. I’m going to be the last Northern casualty of the battle of Fredericksburg.”

***

Their hotel in Richmond turns out to be a bed-and-breakfast that makes Hux feel as if he’s trapped inside a giant doily. Every surface is embroidered or brocaded or festooned with knickknacks. The bed is a four-poster curtained affair covered with an inordinate number of lace-trimmed throw pillows. Hux finds it difficult to imagine doing anything sexual amid this profusion of decorative uselessness, but Ben doesn’t seem to mind. As soon as they’re alone in the room, he shoves Hux onto the bed, heedless of the throw pillows. Then he remembers that Hux is still covered in antihistamine cream and orders him into the shower. 

“Can I fuck you? Please? I can’t wait anymore,” Ben says hoarsely, later, after he’s put Hux’s legs over his shoulders and worked him over with his tongue and fingers until Hux is writhing against his mouth, barely coherent, his cock throbbing. 

“Mmm,” Hux responds, turning over and getting up on his hands and knees. He’s discovered that he likes this position because it makes it easier to push back against Ben, to get Ben to thrust into him at exactly the angle he likes. It occurs to him that the Hux of a year earlier would have been furious and mortified at the very idea of doing this. Although he might have fantasized about being forced into it. The thought that he’s doing this because he wants it, that he’s arching his back and spreading his legs because he needs Ben’s cock inside him, still sends a hot pulse of shame through him. 

“Oh fuck,” Ben whimpers, starting to push into him, his fingers tightening on Hux’s hips. “Oh fuck - you’re so tight - it feels so good - “

Hux breathes out, trying to relax, then makes a strangled sound in his throat as Ben slides in deeper and the initial discomfort abruptly dissolves into pleasure. “Yes - right there - don’t stop - “

“Oh fuck,” Ben says again, all the way in now, gasping for air. He folds himself down over Hux, mouthing hotly at the nape of Hux’s neck, his chest trembling against Hux’s back. Hux bucks his hips, trying to get him to move. “Give - give me a minute - “

“ _Do_ it,” Hux says, “fuck me,” and Ben leans back, bracing himself with a hand on Hux’s hip, and begins slamming into him again and again, hard, the way he wants it. The antique bed creaks painfully underneath them. Hux drops his head onto a decorative pillow and squeezes his eyes shut, feeling the scratchy lace against his cheek, shuddering as each thrust sends heat shooting through him like a shower of sparks. 

***

In the morning Hux allows himself to be dragged through Richmond’s art museum, where Ben is particularly excited about a large statue of a Tibetan deity who appears to be wearing a wreath of severed heads. Each head has a different, uniquely agonized expression. 

Hux finds himself feeling less oppressed by this experience than he had expected to be. Partly it’s the art: the Christian art at the National Gallery had actively annoyed him, whereas he finds Asian art merely incomprehensible. Possibly, also, being able to have sex with Ben whenever he wants is starting to improve his overall mood. Earlier, Ben had woken him up by nuzzling at his cock, licking and sucking it until Hux was fully hard and trying to thrust up into his mouth. 

Now Ben is trying to explain Japanese woodblock prints to Hux. Hux watches his mouth move, thinking about how Ben had looked that morning riding his cock, straddling Hux and stroking himself, his ecstatic face framed by the fussy flowered curtains around their bed. 

Hux realizes abruptly that Ben has stopped talking and is looking at him expectantly, apparently waiting for some sort of response. “Mm-hmm, yes,” Hux says, trying to sound thoughtful. 

Ben beams. “Cool! I was afraid you’d be sick of museums after this place, but I really appreciate it. Thanks, Hux!”

“Wait,” Hux says, alarmed. “I wasn’t paying attention. What did I just agree to?”

Ben laughs. “That’s what you get for ignoring me! You already said it was okay, so you can’t back out now.”

“What did I say was okay?”

“I asked if we could go to Edgar Allan Poe’s house after this. I really want to see it.”

“Oh,” says Hux, somewhat relieved. “Sure, whatever. As long as we aren’t there forever. I do want to see some of the Civil War sites around the city.”

Ben shrugs. “If you want. Anyway, you should like Poe - did you know he went to West Point?”

“Of course I knew that,” Hux says, annoyed. “He’s one of our famous non-graduates. The story is that when he was a cadet, they wouldn’t let you just quit and go home, so he started doing stuff like coming to formation naked until they finally kicked him out.”

Ben laughs. “That’s awesome! You definitely need to see his house, in that case. He’s a great role model for you.”

“No thanks,” Hux says. “Actually, you know what he was like? Between the goth aesthetic and the inappropriate nudity, he was exactly what you probably would have been like if you’d gone to West Point.”

Ben laughs harder. “Yeah, probably,” he agrees. “I would definitely have done the nudity part, anyway. Not even to get myself kicked out. Just to, like, raise morale among the troops.”

Hux rolls his eyes. “Your dedication to supporting the troops is an inspiration to us all.”

***

“That’s kind of random,” Ben comments, as they’re wandering through the museum’s sculpture garden. He gestures to a small white building on the lawn. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a museum that had its own church before.”

Hux shrugs. They walk closer. The church is delicately pretty, with scalloped archways over a sagging porch. In front of it is a sign in curly script that reads, “Confederate Memorial Chapel - Available for Weddings!”

“Oh my god,” Ben says. “This, I have to see.”

Inside the chapel, the sunlight glows in multicolored patches on the wooden pews. As Hux’s eyes adjust, he realizes that every window features a stained-glass tribute to a noteworthy Confederate. A smiling, blue-eyed Jesus presides benignly over the assembly. Robert E. Lee is at his right hand.

“This place is so weird,” Ben says incredulously. “Can you imagine the kind of person who gets married here?”

“Yes, actually,” Hux says. “There’s a lot of General Lee fanboys up at West Point.”

“Ugh,” Ben says.

Hux nudges him. “Hey, at least your people are represented here too.”

“Huh?” 

Hux gestures towards a stained-glass window that depicts an avuncular man with exuberant facial hair. “Judah Benjamin. Secretary of State for the Confederacy. He was Jewish.”

“So weird,” Ben says again, staring at it. “Somehow I never thought about the fact that there were Jews in the Confederacy.”

“There were quite a few,” Hux says. “I remember reading a letter, actually, from a Jewish soldier from the South who was writing to his relatives in New York to explain why he had enlisted on the Confederate side. He said, ‘This land has been a refuge for our people. I will defend it to my last breath.’”

Ben scowls. “That would be kind of moving, I guess, if he hadn’t been basically fighting for the Nazis,” he says. “Let’s go.”

***

On the way to Edgar Allan Poe’s house, Ben turns down a wide avenue lined on either side with white-columned historic homes. The cherry blossoms are starting to bloom; a breeze rustles gently through them. When Hux rolls down the Jeep’s window, the faint scent of flowers fills the car.

“Who’s that guy?” Ben asks, slowing down as they pass a marble statue surrounded by columns. A blond woman in a voluminous white wedding dress is posing for photographs in front of it. 

Hux leans out the window, squinting at the statue’s base. “Uh... it’s Jefferson Davis. It says ‘President of the Confederate States of America, Defender of the Rights of States.’”

Ben snorts. “I don’t even know why I’m surprised,” he says. “This place is like the Twilight Zone.”

“And I think that’s Robert E. Lee up ahead,” Hux says, gesturing to a monument at the next intersection. “On his horse Traveler.”

Ben glances at him sideways. “Okay, not going to lie, I’m a little weirded out that you know the horse’s name. And that you could recognize it from blocks away.”

“I actually had a book about Traveler when I was little,” Hux says. “My father got it for me. To introduce me to America, I guess.”

“Sounds about right for your dad,” Ben says. “Even when he’s doing a normal dad thing, like buying his kid a book about a horse, he somehow manages to be a weird fascist asshole about it.”

***

At the Edgar Allan Poe house, Hux dutifully takes pictures of Ben grinning next to a portrait painted in human blood and standing with his arms folded across his chest, inside a coffin. The coffin is located, inexplicably, next to the men’s room.

“That coffin’s way too small for you,” Hux observes. “You’d be a very uncomfortable vampire.”

“Style before comfort,” Ben says. “That’s how the undead roll.”

For Hux, the highlight of the visit turns out to be the three identical large black cats who inhabit the place, like living Halloween decorations. Hux has mostly inherited his father’s distaste for animals and his preference for sterile, pristine living spaces. But he finds himself oddly charmed by the cats. They stalk him silently through the museum, winding around his ankles. When he sits down on a bench in the courtyard, one of them leaps into his lap. He strokes its head gingerly. It makes itself comfortable and begins to purr; its warmth and slight weight are surprisingly soothing, Hux thinks.

Ben laughs and takes a picture. “You look really cute like that,” he says. “You should get a cat.” He reaches out to touch the one in Hux’s lap. Its green eyes flare open and it hisses furiously in Ben’s direction.

“They do seem to be good judges of character,” Hux agrees. 

***

Later, when they’re wandering around downtown looking for a place to eat dinner, Ben pauses hopefully in front of a trendy-looking Vietnamese place. “This place smells good.”

Hux looks doubtfully at its graphic red-and-black decor. Some sort of electronic-sounding music is playing loudly inside. “It looks expensive.”

“I’ll pay,” Ben says. Hux starts to object. “Come on, it’ll be a nice break from the Confederacy.”

Inside, they’re greeted by a skinny guy in a black tank top, with tattooed arms and an elaborately-styled swoop of dark hair. He looks Ben up and down with obvious interest, taking in the t-shirt stretched tightly across his chest and his strategically-ripped black jeans. This particular pair is torn high on the inside of Ben’s thigh, in a way that always makes Hux want to slide his fingers into it. “Hello,” he says, smiling at Ben. “What can I do for you?”

“Table for two, please,” Hux says firmly, putting a possessive hand on Ben’s hip. Ben looks at him in surprise. 

The host looks amused. “Sure thing,” he says, leading them towards a table in the back. 

“I had no idea that all I had to do to get you to act like my boyfriend in public was to get another dude to check me out,” Ben whispers, squeezing Hux’s hand. “I should’ve done this ages ago.”

“Shut up,” Hux whispers back. His face feels hot. 

The host winks at Ben as they slide into their seats. “Let me know if you need anything,” he says cheerfully. Hux glares at him. “I’m never far away!”

Ben nudges Hux’s ankle with the toe of his boot. “You want to bring that guy back to the hotel with us? I bet he’d be down.”

“ _No_ ,” says Hux indignantly. “Absolutely not.”

“You sure?” Ben grins at Hux. He stretches, arching his back. Hux’s eyes follow the lines of his torso. “You guys could tie me up and take turns fucking me. It’d be hot.”

“For you, maybe,” Hux says disdainfully, folding his arms. “Should I leave you alone with him?”

Ben leans forward, reaching for Hux’s hands. “No,” he says, looking at Hux appealingly. “Don’t leave.”

***

Back in their over-decorated room, Hux decides to take advantage of the four posts of the antique bed by tying Ben’s hands and feet to them, so that he lies spread-eagled on the sheets, like a starfish. Then he slides Ben’s vibrator inside him. 

Now Hux is lying on the bed next to Ben, leaning on his elbow, still fully dressed. He’s been experimenting with the vibrator’s settings - clicking it up high to make Ben arch his back and gasp for air, then turning it down to the lowest setting to watch Ben squirm and plead for more. Ben’s naked body gleams faintly with sweat in the dim lamplight. His dark hair is tangled, sticking to his flushed face. 

“ _Hux_ ,” Ben says, “please - it’s not enough - I need it - “

Hux slides his hand into Ben’s hair, stroking it. “Yes? What do you need?”

“Please - turn it up again - and touch my cock - “ He shifts his hips desperately against the bed. 

Hux kisses the soft skin under Ben’s arm. His nose is full of the clean scent of Ben’s sweat. He runs his fingers lightly over Ben’s chest and stomach, avoiding his cock, admiring the way his muscles tremble. He clicks the vibrator up a few notches. Ben makes a frantic little sound, thrusting his hips up against nothing. His cock is a dark swollen red; it looks painfully hard. It leaks onto his stomach as Hux fondles his balls with his fingertips. 

“You’re making a mess,” Hux says, rubbing two fingers over the dripping head of Ben’s cock, making him jerk. “Clean it up.” He slides his wet fingers into Ben’s mouth. Ben groans around his fingers, sucking hard. Hux shivers involuntarily. “You want to suck my cock like that?” 

Ben nods eagerly. “Say ‘please,’” Hux says, pulling his fingers out of Ben’s mouth and reaching for his zipper. He’s so hard it hurts.

“Please,” Ben says hoarsely. “Please let me suck it - please fuck my face - “

“Maybe if you do a good job I’ll even let you come,” Hux says, reaching down to turn the vibrator up to the highest setting. Ben makes a high-pitched sound in his throat, arching up off the bed. Hux straddles Ben’s chest, his fly open, stroking himself, just out of reach of Ben’s mouth. Ben lifts his head, his mouth open, straining towards it. 

***

South of Richmond the next day, Hux’s military atlas entirely fails to help them find the site of the Petersburg battlefield. Ben grows increasingly irritated as they pass the town’s landfill for the third time. 

“You’re telling me people actually fought over _this_?” he says, as the smell of garbage wafts into the Jeep yet again. In front of the landfill, the only sign of life is a dry-cleaning business with a smashed front window and a sign offering military discounts. “What the hell was wrong with them?”

“This is where the Confederates dug in to protect Richmond,” Hux responds, imperturbably. “I want to see the siege lines.”

“Fine,” Ben snarls. “Then figure out how to get us there.”

Hux looks up at a sign they’ve now passed repeatedly: _FORT LEE - US ARMY INSTALLATION - ALL VEHICLES SUBJECT TO SEARCH_. “Turn in here,” he says. “The guards at the gate might know where it is.”

“I’m sure there’s a ton of history behind it, which you should feel free to not explain to me,” Ben says, “but I’m just going to go ahead and register that for some reason you guys have an Army base named after an enemy you defeated. Who does that?”

“Well, we defeated him right near here,” Hux says. “Maybe it’s like a trophy. Like hanging Lee’s head over the fireplace.”

The guard at the gate does, in fact, know how to get to the battlefield. It turns out that the base has its own entryway, a gate in a chain-link fence near the squat cinderblock pile that is the post hotel. 

The temperature seems to have dropped significantly since they left Richmond. The dirt path to the battlefield leads them immediately into a dense forest, where only patches of overcast sky are visible though the pine trees. Something rustles in the underbrush. 

“Hux,” Ben says plaintively, reaching for Hux’s hand, “are you sure you’re not just leading me to the most remote spot you can find so that you can kill me?”

“If I were planning to kill you I would’ve done it already, believe me.” He allows Ben to hold his hand, however. 

“You’re always so reassuring,” Ben says. His hand is very warm. “Even if you’re not planning to kill me, I feel like someone else might. These deserted woods seem like a great place to get murdered.”

“You’re just being very New York about this,” Hux says impatiently. “It’s not dangerous to be alone in the woods. You’re just not used to the quiet.”

“Being alone in the woods _is_ dangerous,” Ben says. “Look at all the people who die of exposure.”

“Who do you know who’s died of exposure? This isn’t the Oregon Trail.”

“Okay fine, that game might be my main experience with dying of exposure,” Ben says, “but I’d like to keep it that way. Anyway, you’re just as much of a New Yorker as I am. The only wilderness survival skill I’ve ever seen you demonstrate is buying a sandwich at the bodega before you walk to the park.”

Hux frowns. “You know I’ve been studying the Army survival manual.”

“Oh no, not the Army survival manual again,” Ben says. “If we get to the point where we’re eating raw earthworms and looking for tansy root to rub on our rashes, or whatever it was you were telling me about in the car, I’m just going to give up and end it all.”

Hux is ignoring him. “Look, they’ve reconstructed one of the defensive positions,” he says happily, pointing to a large square structure in a clearing just ahead. Its thick dirt walls bristle with sharpened stakes. “Imagine trying to storm that. People would be shooting at you _and_ you’d have to be careful not to get impaled. Especially in the dark.”

“The part that I still don’t get,” Ben says, staring at it, “is why you want to spend your free time thinking about all the ways in which people in your line of work have died horrible deaths. Like, I bet firefighters don’t spend their vacations going to visit places where a bunch of other firefighters died of smoke inhalation. Or whatever.”

“Part of the point is to avoid making mistakes that other officers have already made,” Hux says. “If you’re trying to figure out how to keep your soldiers from being killed in combat, you don’t want to have to learn from experience.”

“Okay, fair enough,” Ben says. “So are we done here? Have you figured out how to keep your hypothetical future soldiers from getting impaled yet?”

“We can keep walking,” Hux says, “but there’s a lot more of the park I want to see. You might like the Battle of the Crater site.”

“Why would I like it?” Ben asks suspiciously.

“It’s an unusual one,” Hux says, as they head deeper into the woods. “The Union troops had been besieging Petersburg for months, trying to break through the Confederate defenses. So they came up with the idea of digging a tunnel under the Confederates and packing it with explosives. And then they would charge in through the breach and roll up the Confederate line.”

“This sounds like the Looney Tunes version of the Civil War,” Ben says. “I’ve never heard of this, so I’m guessing it didn’t work.”

“It kind of worked,” Hux says. “They managed to dig the tunnel and set off the explosion, and it killed a couple hundred Confederates who had no idea it was coming. And they had a unit of black soldiers who had been practicing for weeks to rush in through the breach and fight their way through the remaining defenses. But at the last minute, a white officer decided that he didn’t want black troops to have the glory of breaking the Confederate line, so he replaced them with white troops who didn’t know what they were doing. When those guys tried to break through after the explosion, they basically got stuck in this giant hole they’d created, and once the Confederates figured out what was going on they started shooting down into the hole. So a lot of people on both sides died and nothing really changed.”

Ben sighs. “I feel like that’s how most of your war stories go.”

“Well, that’s how a lot of the Civil War went. It was kind of a preview of the First World War, in terms of people dying pointlessly in huge numbers.”

“And now the suffering continues because my weird boyfriend is dragging me through these creepy woods to look at a hole in the ground,” Ben says gloomily. “Truly, the horror of war never ends.”

***

Late that afternoon, as they’re on the highway heading towards Durham, Ben slides his warm hand up Hux’s thigh, over his zipper. Hux squirms at the touch but pushes his hand away. Ben makes a frustrated sound in his throat. “Why can’t I touch you?”

“Because you’re easily distracted and I’m trying to not die,” Hux says firmly. “You can do whatever you want to me when we stop for the night.”

Ben pushes out his full lower lip, pouting. “This is why it sucks that you can’t drive,” he says. “Because if you could drive I would totally give you road head, but you won’t do that for me.”

“No. Because I want to stay alive. Also, the last thing I need is a state trooper calling West Point to let them know he pulled us over while I was sucking your cock.”

“So what you’re saying is that, in that situation, I get a blowjob _and_ you finally leave West Point,” Ben says. “Sounds like a win-win for me.”

“Don’t start that again,” Hux snaps. They’re both quiet for a few minutes, watching the dark blur of trees along the side of the highway.

***

At a Motel 6 off I-85 that evening, Hux lies sprawled on top of Ben, his head on Ben’s chest. His legs are still quivering from the effort it had taken to fuck Ben hard enough to make him cry out and come all over both of their chests. 

It had been the first time they’d done that without a condom - mostly because they’d run out and hadn’t realized it until Ben was already pulling his knees up to his shoulders and begging Hux to fuck him. Hux knows, intellectually, that this is okay. Ben has been tested. He trusts Ben, mostly. And, admittedly, it had felt amazing - so good that Hux had had to squeeze his eyes shut and think about equations in order to stop himself from coming on his first thrust. Still, he feels uneasy, as if another protective layer has been peeled away. _Another thing I told myself I’d never do_ , he thinks ruefully.

Ben is stroking his hair. “You know, if we keep doing this, we can’t sleep with other people,” he says suddenly. 

Hux lifts his head and looks at him in surprise. “I thought that was what we were already doing,” he says sharply. “Was I wrong?”

“No! I just mean, I wanted to make sure.” He squeezes Hux tightly. “I never know with you.”

Hux rolls his eyes. “Who else would I sleep with? Mitaka?”

Ben laughs. “You say that like it’s such a crazy idea. What’s wrong with Mitaka? I’d fuck him.”

“He looks like a scared field mouse most of the time,” Hux says disdainfully. “It’s not attractive.”

“Maybe you just have that effect on people.”

“I certainly hope so,” Hux says, putting his head back down and closing his eyes. 

Ben goes back to stroking his hair. “I wish we could do this forever,” he says. “Just keep driving. I hate that I have to take you back to that place this weekend.”

“I’m sure your mother would quickly get tired of paying our hotel bills if we tried to do this forever.”

“Yeah, I don’t literally mean I want to stay on this road trip forever,” Ben says. “I just feel like we could be okay, if we could get away. If it was just the two of us.”

Hux opens his eyes, his shoulders tensing. “I thought we were okay.”

“Right now, this minute, sure. But at the end of the week you’re going back there and then everything goes back to the way it was.”

“Well,” says Hux shortly, “some things can’t be helped.”

“But you could help it,” Ben says urgently. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but you could leave. You could do anything with your life. Why does it have to be the military?”

Hux sits up, pulling away from Ben. “Do we have to have this conversation again?”

“I don’t think we’ve ever really had it,” Ben says, looking at him pleadingly. “Hux - I just don’t get it. You’re not like me. You actually have marketable skills - you don’t need the military. You could put in your transfer paperwork and be studying engineering at Columbia with Rey by next semester.”

“You’re right,” Hux says coldly, reaching for his discarded clothes. “You don’t get it.”

“Hux, I’m not attacking you,” Ben says earnestly. “I’m just saying. I mean, you talk about that robot you’ve been building like you love it more than any actual human being you’ve ever known. You could go do stuff like that for a tech company and make a zillion dollars and nobody would care who you were fucking.”

“I have no desire to spend my life designing widgets for some corporation to sell,” Hux says, standing up and pulling on his pants. “I want what I do to mean something.”

“Why are you getting dressed? Where are you going?” Ben asks, sounding frustrated. “And you could still do something meaningful outside of the Army! Even if you insist on working for them, I’m pretty sure you could still design weapons for them, or whatever you want to do, without actually being a soldier.”

“Nobody dreams about growing up to be a defense contractor.” 

Ben snorts. “Hux, when I was thirteen I wanted to grow up to be a vampire who lives in a mansion in New Orleans with his hot undead boyfriend. But I’m still willing to settle for you.”

“Oh thanks,” Hux says. “And that’s not comparable.”

“I’m kidding,” Ben says. “I’m just saying, it’s okay to end up doing something that’s not exactly the same as what you dreamed about as a kid. Not everyone becomes an astronaut or a firefighter. You can still be happy.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Hux snaps, pulling on his jacket. “I’m going - I’m going out for a walk.”

“Where? On the highway?” Ben gets up and wraps his arms around Hux from behind. “Don’t run away. Stay with me.”

Hux squirms away. “I’m not running away. I’m going out for a minute.”

Ben makes a frustrated sound in his throat, crossing his arms over his chest. “You know what you’re like?”

“Some sort of insulting comparison, I’m sure.”

“It’s not an insult,” Ben says, sitting back down on the bed, staring at Hux. He’s still naked, his dark hair tangled around his face. “It’s just - I was thinking about this the other day, at the Edgar Allan Poe house. Remember in high school, when we read that story by him? ‘The Maelstrom’?”

“Vaguely,” Hux says suspiciously, his hand on the door. “Where are you going with this?”

“So, you remember the story, right, these sailors are in a lifeboat and it gets sucked into a whirlpool.”

Hux sighs, exasperated. “Ben, I’m not in the mood to discuss literature at the moment.”

“This is relevant,” Ben insists. “Just listen to me for once. So, you know, the whirlpool is sucking them down, and the one sailor realizes that there are these barrels that are floating to the surface, and he has to jump out of the boat and grab onto one in order to survive. So he does. But the other guys just keep clinging to the boat, even though it’s going down, and they drown.”

“So?”

“So that’s what you’re doing. You’re clinging to this idea of West Point, even though it’s drowning you. You need to jump out of the boat. Even though it sucks, and it’s terrifying.”

“I see,” Hux sneers. “And who are you in this literary metaphor? The barrel? Am I supposed to give up everything I’ve ever worked for in my life and just cling to you?”

Ben flinches. “It doesn’t have to be about me.”

“Isn’t it, though?”

Ben shrugs. “Whatever,” he says, turning away. “Do whatever you want.” 

Hux walks out, past the front desk, where the night clerk is sleepily watching TV. “This is the last time that Karen was seen alive,” a voiceover says ominously as the camera pans over a yellowing picture of a smiling blond woman. Hux stares into the vending machine for a moment, then pushes open the front door. 

The air just outside is full of the stale smell of old cigarettes, but as he walks out into the parking lot, a cold, clean-smelling wind hits his face. He looks around. There really is nowhere else to go. So he stands leaning against the Jeep for a long moment, staring at the blur of passing headlights on the highway. When the damp chill starts to sink in through his jacket he turns to go back inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings:  
> \- Hux describes the Civil War battles that took place at Fredericksburg and Petersburg in some detail, although it’s not graphic (this might be more a boredom warning than a squick warning).  
> \- There’s a one-sentence reference to Hux having had rape fantasies in the past. Not explicit.  
> \- Ben makes a brief, joking reference to suicide.  
> \- Richmond’s Confederate Memorial Chapel, Jefferson Davis Monument, and Robert E. Lee Monument are described in some detail. Ben’s response is shocked and contemptuous; Hux is more neutral. I spent a lot of time thinking about how to describe these topics without either reducing the South to a stereotype or condoning the racism that these monuments represent. As I said at the beginning, please feel free to let me know if you have feedback about how I could have handled this better.  
> \- The brief Ben/OMC and Ben/Mitaka tags: a guy checks Ben out at a restaurant and Hux is annoyed and jealous; Ben suggests bringing him home for a threesome. Also, Ben mentions that he would fuck Mitaka. None of this actually happens.  
> \- Ben gets tied up and teased. All of it is very consensual.  
> \- They have anal sex without using condoms for the first time and Hux has mixed feelings about it.  
> \- They have a fairly serious argument about their relationship at the end of the chapter, and it isn’t really resolved.

**Author's Note:**

> Er, sorry about the depressing ending. I’m definitely not planning to leave them there, and the series WILL ultimately have a happy ending, I promise. But it will probably take five or six more installments to get there. Many thanks to everyone for the kind comments and kudos on previous chapters! Also, please come yell at me on Twitter (same username) about Kylux at literally any time.


End file.
